


Her secret Keeper (SSHG Lovestory)

by Slytherinflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts, Humor, Ministry of Magic, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherinflower/pseuds/Slytherinflower
Summary: A year after the downfall of Lord Voldemort, Severus finds himself in the bar of The Three Broomsticks, drowning his sorrows when a familiar face walks in. But what happens after he and his former student share a night together, especially when, to his surprise, she shows up in the dungeon at the beginning of the new term as his Potions Apprentice?
Relationships: HGSS - Relationship, Hermione - Relationship, Hermione Granger - Relationship, SSHG, Severus - Relationship, Severus Snape - Relationship, Snamione - Relationship, sevmione, snager - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 143





	1. Burning memories

It was a late Saturday night, and Severus found himself sitting behind his desk in his office, deeply hidden in the gloomy dungeon of Hogwarts. His fingertips rested against one another, and his eyes locked into the frame of the dark wall in front of him. Only a few candles on the opposite side of the office was dimly lit.  
  
The bubbling sound and the deadly smell from the cauldrons coming from across the hallway seemed to layer thickly around him. He had promised Poppy to brew a few more vials of Draught of Living Death before Monday came around, yet this was the second night he had fallen silent into his chair, witnessing his mind flashing breathing memories from the night that happened less than a month ago. The memories of _her_ ; His former insufferable Know-it-all student from Gryffindor, who had stumbled into the Three Broomsticks the same night he had found his way to the bar. The witch who had witnessed him lay so defenceless on his deathbed in the Shrieking Shack the night Nagini attacked him. The brain behind what once was The Golden Trio – the witch who saved him from his demise, _Hermione Granger_.  
  
Failing immensely as he tried to forcefully shake the living, breathing images popping up in front of his head from that night; her heavy, yet desperate moans into his ear, her body pressed so perfectly against his with her legs wrapped around his lower body. His body twitched, sending delicious shockwaves up his spine; the bulge in his pants trembling with the need to feel her walls clamp violently around him, even just for one more time.  
  
_Brilliant! Now you’ve officially gone mad!_ He thought. Placing his hands down on his desk, he reached for the parchment from Poppy, laying in front of him, “A bloody mistake. It was nothing more than a _bloody mistake_!” he growled under his breath and rolled his eyes in despise at what he had done less than a month ago, “You know better than that!” he loudly lectured himself as three steady knocks were heard from the open office door.  
  
Severus had been too busy lecturing and cursing himself that he had paid no attention to the elderly witch who had stepped into the dreary Potions office. The black feathers on her hat jiggled as she nodded at the dark wizard; being in the dungeon at this late hour wasn’t something she wished for, yet she was Hogwarts Headmistress. Severus had turned down the offer about stepping in as Headmaster after the war, so Minerva was forced to take it, whether she wanted it or not.  
  
“ _What do you want?_ ” he sneered. His black orbs observing her from the small distance between them.  
  
Her blue eyes smiled at him from behind her small spectacles, “The Minister has voiced his utmost concerns about Hogwarts not having enough Professors at hand -” she said before Severus interjected with a heavy sigh of loathe. Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, he leaned forward to his desk, supporting both of his elbows on its surface and heaved the woman a curt, yet deadly glance.  
  
Tilting his head, Severus turned his eyes into slits and his lips grew in a thin line across his mouth, “And tell me, Minerva, how did you manage to slip into my office at this hour? ” he snarled sarcastically without blinking.  
  
“Because, Severus,” she started, heaving her eyes in displeasure at the man and sat down in the old, dusty bergère chair, standing on the opposite side from where he sat, “We are training new Apprentices this upcoming -”  
  
“No.” he growled with his fists clenched in front of him. There was no chance in Azkaban that he would agree to train whatever the Ministry was asking for. He had his hands full with classes, brewing Potions and being the Head of Slytherin.  
  
“Surely you understand that it wasn’t a question, Severus.” A gentle smile wrapped around the corners of her lips. Though he wouldn’t admit it, she knew that handing him a Potions Apprentice would do him better than harm. She knew how much he had suffered both during and after the war, and he was indeed lucky to end up walking the castle hallways rather than a rotting corpse in the Shrieking Shack. Knowing exactly who she would put up as his Apprentice made a warm feeling run through her spine. Although she did not want to tell him yet, knowing if she did, he would’ve packed his trunk and been gone before the early morning sun strode upon the sky the next morning.  
  
“For the love of Circe, woman . . .” the echo of his low baritone bounced between the walls in his office as he switched in his chair.  
  
Raising up, Minerva drew a wry smile across her mouth and brushed off the dust from her emerald green dress. “You’ll hear from me by Monday. Until then I suggest you’ll get some sleep.” She informed as she walked towards the door and disappeared out the door.  
  


* * *

Hermione had just cuddled up in front of the telly when loud shrieks was heard from outside her kitchen window. _Bloody hell, will they never leave me alone?_ she thought. For the past year she had worked as an Apprentice for the _Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature_ at the Ministry. There was nothing she would rather do than what she was doing right now. After the war the Ministry changed to the better, especially with Kingsley Shacklebolt as the new Minister. And she got to catch up with her long-time friends, Harry and Ron. Or more Harry so to speak given that she and Ron never saw eye to eye after his little run-in with his ex, Lavender Brown, who at this point of time happened to be his girlfriend.  
  
Shrugging her thoughts away, she stalked barefoot into the dimly lit kitchen with her wand at hand. She never knew if there was any Death Eaters left after Voldemort’s defeat, and because of the rumors floating around about some still being alive, she always carried her wand, even for a short visit to the loo.

Immediately as she entered the kitchen, she recognized the tricolored owl with wide black eyes as her former Professor’s owl and before she had reached the window, the owl continued to hatch its beak enthusiastically on the window.  
  
“You must be hungry,” Hermione smiled to the owl as it flew into the kitchen and sat down on her left arm. Looking around, she found some bread from the night before. She took out a plate from the cabinet and placed the bread on it as she placed it back on the counter for the bird to eat. The letter found itself wrapped forcefully into her hands as she walked back to the living room.   
  
Cuddling herself back into the duvet, her finger slipped the envelope open in her hand. Just seconds before she pulled out the letter, an eerie shiver shot through her body. Breathing heavily out, she pulled out the letter and started reading. She always knew that when her former Transfiguration Professor owled her, she was always in need for something. And the eerie feeling shooting spitfires through her body didn’t make the case any better.  
  
Her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, the envelope that she forcefully held on to fell to the floor with a silent thug as her hand covered her gaped mouth. “ _No, no, no_. . .” she shrieked in disbelief, not wanting to read more. Her hand moved from her mouth to cover her eyes.  
  
“Oh gods, she can’t be serious, can she?” she asked the bird who had flown into the living room, now sitting on the back of the chair on the other side of the coffee table. The bird tilted its head and looked at Hermione, as if he wanted to tell her otherwise.  
  
For several of minutes her amber eyes danced between the owl and the letter; she couldn’t understand why Minerva McGonagall would do such thing as she wrote that she had done. She could at least have owled her to meet with her urgently and asked her in person, but no.  
  
Her eyes landed back on the parchment again.  
  
_“Dear Hermione Granger,  
  
The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has voiced his greatest concerns of Hogwarts not having enough Professors at hand. It is, therefore, my request that you meet at my office at the earliest of your convenience. You have been accepted as a Potions Apprentice under the guidance of Prof. S. Snape from September 1st of this year.  
  
It is, therefore, no need for your Apprenticeship at The Ministry of Magic and are from this Monday of dismissed permanently from your place at the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature.  
  
We will talk soon.  
  
Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.” _  
  
Her eyes rested on the bird before the parchment fell at the floor. Her small hands covered her face as a desperate howl escaped her.  
  
“Why me, and why _him_?” she bellowed into the palms of her hands.  
  
Less than a month ago, she had a run-in with her former Potions Professor at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. That day seemed to be the longest and worst day in her life; it was the day she bore witness to Ron getting back with his ex-girlfriend, Lavender Brown. Finally, it seemed like Ron and Hermione was on the road to recovery when she found them snogging around the Auror-training Department at the Ministry. Her heart broke in millions of pieces, knowing how much she cared for him and eventually considered spending the rest of her life with the poor bloke. However, a certain relief struck through her when she came to terms that all his empty words, the roses, the romantic trips to London and Paris were for nothing. He cared for Hermione just like Severus Snape cared for his gormless students.  
  
That afternoon she had told everything to a few of her closest friends at the Ministry of what she had stumbled upon in the narrow hallways leading to the Auror studies. The pain from the tears falling down her cheeks felt endless, and her eyes remained somewhat swollen until the late evening. Her friends had told her to put on her ‘best self’ that evening and to meet them for a girls-night-out at The Three Broomsticks. However, when she got there, her friends were nowhere to see.  
  
Although she quickly noticed the silhouette of a raven-haired wizard who sat in the darkest corner of the bar with a glass of Ogden’s Olde Fire Whiskey in his hand, and before she knew it herself she had stalked over to him and immersed into a longer conversation with him over several of glasses with Fire Whiskey. And never in her life, did she think – or even visit the thought of what would happen that night. Due to her living with Ron for the past year, she had reserved a room at the hostel across the street before entering the bar.   
  
She didn’t remember much from that evening, only that she had woken up early the morning after, laying halfway over her former Potions Professor, in the room she had rented the night before. However, what she distinctly remembered was that though he was known as the Greasy Dungeon Bat, he most definitely was a good shag. The thought of her admitting it for herself made her body shiver in disbelief and disgust. What was even worse was that she had silently collected her things and fled the room at hasty speed.  
  
And now Minerva had asked her to face the impossible. “ _You have really signed your death note, Hermione.”_ , she sighed loudly. Her eyes once again found the owl’s black eyes; they were filled with comprehension as he looked back at her.  
  
For a moment she closed her eyes as memories from that night flashed through her head; his soft touches that made every nerve in her body burst into flames, his open mouth kisses trailing down to her soft spot between her jaw and shoulder – his low growling moans when he buried his face into her bushy hair as he spilled inside of her and the way he touched and caressed every curve and corner of her body.  
  
She shook her head. Hard.  
  
“ _What have I done?_ ” she sighed, “I need to have my brain Obliviated.” She shook her head again, hoping the memories would be gone when she opened her eyes, before she conjured a quill into her right hand, turned the parchment and wrote down her reply to Minerva,  
  
_“Dear Professor McGonagall.  
  
I am sorry to hear the Ministry has let me go. As much as I would have loved to continue my work there, I will accept your offer of the Potions Apprenticeship at Hogwarts.  
  
I will see you Wednesday, right before lunch time at Hogwarts.  
  
Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger._  
  
She stuffed the parchment back into the envelope and gave it to the owl. Raising up from the sofa, she let the owl jump back on her arm as she guided it to the kitchen window. She watched it spread its majestic wings as it flew into the darkness of the night sky, soon disappearing from her view as it made its way back to Hogwarts.  
  
_You break up with Ron and the first thing you do is shagging your old Potions Professor, Bravo Hermione!_ – the voice in her head shrieked with a high-pitched tone.   
  
She gathered her duvet and stalked with heavy steps up to her bedroom. There was no chance in hell that she would survive longer than five minutes into the Apprenticeship. _Damnit Hermione, he isn’t the devil. Perhaps he’s actually changed after the war. He must be_ , she thought as she shifted in bed, now facing the bedroom window where the full moon glistened its golden rays of light into her bedroom.  
  
Closing her eyes, she sighed; hopeful that the next year at Hogwarts would be over quickly.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2 - An Unwanted Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I know I should've been better updating my stories, but I am currently moving places and I am super busy. But I promise that once I am done moving, the updates will be more consistent.

With steady but what felt like slow steps, Hermione made her way up the grand staircase in the castle; ever since she received Minerva’s owl a few nights earlier, she hadn’t been able to sleep. For every step she took, her eyelids became heavier, her feet almost felt unbearable to carry herself the few hallways that were left to Minerva’s office.   
  
The night prior to her coming back to Hogwarts, she had been rolling back and forth in her bed, witnessing her head fighting an endless battle between going back to Hogwarts or getting admitted into St. Mungo’s. Thinking about it now, St. Mungo’s didn’t sound so bad after all, knowing she would have to spend a year under the wing of her old Potions professor.   
  
_Just stop it! You’re bloody Hermione Granger and if you can’t face Snape, then you shouldn’t have accepted the offer as his apprentice!_ – she lectured herself loudly under her breath as she abruptly froze in place; she was _there_.   
  
Standing face to face to the sapient gargoyle in front of her, she withdrew her wand from the back of the pocket of her jeans. Ever since the war, Hermione had found herself withdrawing it more than just once or twice, like when loud sounds, knocks and even honks from cars had been heard. She had nothing to fear; the dark lord was gone along with his follower, yet she kept on holding it close even when she went to bed. It felt like her wand was the only safe thing she could hold on to since her friendship with Harry and Ron had drifted as the months passed them.   
  
“ _Dumbledore_ ,” she whispered as the gargoyle started moving upwards, revealing the spiral stair underneath it. Her slightly incoherent feet stepped onto the stairs and soon she found herself in another corridor.   
  
Inside the Headmistress’s office, Severus had been pacing around for the past five minutes. His black cape billowing behind him for each step he took. The meeting wasn’t going to take place for another ten minutes, but because he had a few things he had to clarify when it came to the apprenticeship.   
  
Severus crossed his arms across his chest; his black eyes curtly watching the elder witch sitting on the opposite side of the office desk. She held a tight grip around both sides of the parchment and her eyes danced along with the words written on it. The sun shining through the enormous window in the office shimmered its reflection on her thin spectacles,   
  
“I do not agree with you on this, Severus.” She voiced coldly, still looking at the parchment in her hands.   
  
“ _No?_ ” he shifted his posture, “You will agree with this or you might just tell Miss Granger to return to London.” The defensive sound of his baritone layered thickly around them as Minerva cast a deadly glare at the dark wizard who stood in the middle of the office, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“I will not have Horace teach her potions. We all know how that ended. Besides, he has chosen to return to his retirement, and understandably so. You will teach the young witch, end of the story.” She retorted quickly, placing the agreement in front of her as loud knocks came from the door.   
  
“Come in,” Minerva greeted the young witch as Hermione opened the door, revealing the one and only she had hoped she wouldn’t catch the glance of today, or ever – for that matter. 

  
“I surely hope I’m not late?” Hermione asked, stepping inside the office. Her heart palpitated violently inside of her rib cage when she saw the silhouette of the potions professor standing in the middle of the room.   
  
“Oh, not at all dearest,” Minerva smiled, gesturing her hand to take a seat in the chair standing opposite of her. “Please sit. We have a lot to discuss.”, another smile wrapped around the corners of her thin lips as she picked up a quill from the top drawer of the office desk.   
  
Taking a quick look around the old, dusty office, Hermione accidentally met Snape’s murderous orbs along the way. His deadly black eyes covered all of her features as they burned into her soul. Right at this moment she would rather have found herself at St. Mungo’s rather than in the same room as Snape. 

  
Folding her hands around the parchment again, Minerva switched her focus back to it and started reading,   
  
“During your year as professor Snape’s apprentice, you will undergo four days a week with intense training in Potions under the guidance of Professor Severus Snape. The remaining days of the week you will go through assignments and test. You will also not be teaching classes before the second term starts.”, looking up from the parchment with a gentle smile on her face, her warm eyes landed on the young witch. “Do you have any questions dear?” she asked,   
  
Hermione let out a hitched breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her hands trembled against one another as she could feel Snape’s presence drain every litre of blood she had left in her body. Her amber warily finding their way to the elder witch in front of her, “Do I need to return back to London after every class, or do I get to stay?” her voiced trembled quietly as her eyes traced warily up at the dark wizard.   
  
“You as Mr. Longbottom and Miss Weasley will have your private chambers by the Gryffindor tower.” The elder witch smiled as her fingers stroked the feathers on her hat.   
  
For the next hour, Minerva took her time to explain her, her coming year as an apprentice at Hogwarts; how she from September 1st was able to summon House-elves at will to bring food to her chambers if she wasn’t feeling like attending the Great Hall for meals, and how she was allowed and free to use the restricted section for Dark arts and advanced Potions making in the school library.   
  
Hermione shook her head. Hard.   
  
Though she wouldn’t admit it, there was some kind of positive side of becoming Snape’s apprentice, due to his hunger for knowledge and ways of teaching. Yes, he could be hard on his students but there was a reason behind it, at least she thought so. Since the beginning of her years at Hogwarts, Snape was one of the professors she valued most because of his educational knowledge, but still, that didn’t make up for how embarrassed she felt in his presence. Because that was all she was; embarrassed for letting herself walk over to the bar, thinking the outcome would be anything else than what she experienced that night with him,   
  
“Now, if you do not mind, I have another meeting with the Ministry,” Minerva informed and raised up from the chair and looked at both Severus and Hermione, “You may go with Severus to the dungeons.”  
  
 _What? No. Absolutely not. She can’t be serious, can she?_ – the voice in her head bellowed from the core within, her jaw had left her face and landed with a smack on the floor below her.   
  


* * *

  
  


“I suggest you get your feet to move faster. _I do not_ intend to wait for you.” Snape snarled coolly with his back against her as they made their way down to the dungeon.   
  
_You bloody troll, don’t you think I am trying?_ \- she cursed angrily but inaudible under her breath as she sprinted behind him. She thought the war would change him for the better, yet here he was, treating her worse than ever. She could have chosen not to come, to let him stand there without any apprentice at his arm. But no, she was desperate for a place to work after the Ministry had chosen to let her go. So much desperate that even working under Snape was a better choice rather than being jobless.   
  
A heavy sigh escaped her as they walked into a darker yet narrow hallway leading to a spiral staircase. Immediately she recognized it from when she used to walk to her Potions classes as a student back in the day. How much she had ran back to the Gryffindor common room after being humiliated by her professor, how she would fall asleep sobbing into her pillow and how she would stop eating just because of the way he treated her.   
  
“Close the door.” Snape growled as he stalked inside to his gloomy office, not did he care to look at the young witch behind him.   
  
As the door slammed shut behind her, silence layered thickly around them. His black eyes scanned her from across the room, his jaw clenched tremendously as he took his time to study her; the witch who for a month ago was just a shag. A bloody good one, to say the least – was standing right in front of him. As his eyes swiped across her amber, he quickly bore notice of the emptiness inside of them; the Gryffindor spark that once lived there was now gone. The little insufferable know-it-all had grown up. He straightened his posture and raised his chin as he folded his hands behind his back.   
  
“You will refer to me as Sir or Professor, is that clear?” he snarled, narrowing his eyes.   
  
“Yes sir.” She agreed quietly.   
  
“Sit.” He ordered and pointed at a chair standing close to his desk. Since she was already in his office, he could as well just take his time to talk her through her coming year. His brows frowned at her as she sat down, and the line between his brows etched violently.   
  
“To make things clear, Miss Granger, I will not under any circumstances tolerate cheek from you. You will spend late nights preparing for your exam next year under my supervision, and you will do exactly as I tell you to. Understood?” his hands folded together on the desk in front of him as he continued to look at Hermione who at this moment found herself to be looking down at her feet.   
  
“Miss Granger is that understood?” he growled.   
  
She threw a curt glance up at her former professor and nodded quietly, “Yes sir.”, if it hadn’t been for being sleep deprived, she would have been more focused, but right now it felt like everything was happening in a blur. Her eyelids were on the verge of shutting completely, her head had become too heavy to even keep up and her body had gone numb.

“Good.” He heaved a heavy sigh and pulled up a parchment with utter information about her apprenticeship. “You are not allowed to run off as you wish.” A dry smirk appeared across his thin lips as he pinned her down with his deadly black eyes.   
  
“Sir?” she asked, not quite understanding where he wanted to go with this.  
  
“You are also not allowed to do any mistakes. Is that clear?”   
Her brows knitted together in a second and her eyes fumed with anger when it dawned on her what he was referring to. _Bloody troll, can’t even let that one slip. It was a mistake!_ – she shouted inside of her head.   
  
Shifting in her seat, she looked up at the wizard in front of her. Her lips as thin as a match and her eyes burning into his, “Sir, I . . . It –“, _great, now she couldn’t talk! Just great_. – her eyes drifted down to his desk again when his lips parted ever so lightly,   
  
She felt sick to her stomach, not to speak about the embarrassment that filled her body. Merlin’s beard, she was drunk. If she hadn’t gone to the Three Broomsticks that evening to meet her friends who never even showed up, she would never have shagged that troll of a man. She shook her head and bordered her eyes on him,   
  
He chuckled mockingly at her, “Good. I can not have my apprentice running around making mistakes the way she pleases.”   
  
“ _Sir_.” She objected loudly as the sickness filled her stomach, “Just stop.”   
  
The lump in her throat grew rapidly and even though she tried the hardest to keep herself from breaking apart, he noticed her eyes turn blank as rage bordered around her face,   
  
Tilting his head to the right, he shifted in his chair and coughed in a low tone. “Very well,” Snape said.   
  
“From September 1st, you will have full access to the restricted section for Dark arts and Potions, though I highly suggest you’ll obtain these books before term begins.” He snarled heavily and handed her the parchment he had written the night before.   
  
Skimming through the parchment in her hands, she looked back at the professor, “- But sir, I have already read these.” She explained with her hands; the parchment swinging along as she did so.   
  
Snape raised an eyebrow and cast a curt glare at the witch, “And tell me, Miss Granger, when would a know-it-all like you say no to read books over again? If I remember correctly you would always have that nose of yours planted deep in a book, whether they were new, or you’ve read them before.”   
  
“I am not the same I was years ago, _professor_.” She hissed. “And you don’t need to call me a know-it-all, because I am _not_.”   
  
“Very well.” His his fingers curled around the black quill on his desk as he put his focus back to another parchment,   
  
“We’re done here. You are free to use the floo back to your house.” He said and pinched his hooked nose before waving her away from his desk.   
  
She raised from the chair and headed to the back of his office, towards the old dusty fireplace standing among some old books and vials. And she didn’t offer to meet his gaze again,   
  
“Meet at my office on August 31st. Do _not_ be late.”   
  
Nodding for herself, she found the floo powder and stepped into the fireplace and said the name of her street in London.

* * *

The rain kept hammering violently against the window of Severus’ chambers at Hogwarts. Sitting in his black chair in front of the crackling fireplace, he poured himself a bigger amount of Fire Whiskey than he did half an hour ago. He needed it. He deserved it.   
  
The exact memories he tried to drown, were the very ones that kept flashing through his head; his former student, the Gryffindor Know-it-all, the witch who so bravely fought in the battle of Hogwarts a year ago was the same witch who he found himself to have the best shag with.

 _The brain of the Golden trio, your former student, the Gryffindor golden witch…_ _-_  
  
 _If you’re continuing down this road, you are doomed to go mad!_ – he lectured himself harshly in between his sips from the whiskey. He rolled his eyes in ignorance as his head resumed its walk down memory lane; her soft moans against his neck, her violent grip on the back of his shoulder blades as he kept thrusting back into her, and her crying his name as her orgasm washed over him. He was not the man to admit to such; he was a man who exceeded self-control. Not a man who was in need of a shag from his former student. He put the glass down on the table on his left side and walked over to his bedroom.

Twisting her body into a different direction in bed, she finally found a comfortable way to lay as a heavy sigh escaped her, her eyes locked on the ceiling above her; for the past two nights, Hermione had been unable to sleep, and now she was more awake than earlier. She didn’t under any circumstances want to meet or look at her former Potions professor, yet she felt sick to her stomach when she thought of the meeting with him earlier that day.   
  
The dense lump of shame bounced between the walls of her stomach, waking every nerve in her body. She felt utterly sick, and she had for days, ever since she received the letter from her former Head of House.   
  
Rolling over to the side, she warily caressed her fingertips on the left side of her neck; though she felt sick, she couldn’t help thinking about her old professor; the very man who bullied her in front of his students at Hogwarts, let alone – he was the one who made her cry herself to sleep every night. Yet, that night from a month ago, he was the one who made her feel things she’d never felt before. Not even Ron made her feel like that.   
  
Hermione pouted her lips and frowned her brows in abhor as she broke out of her thoughts; _To hell with Snape, I will do my job and study as hard as I possibly can. I can’t keep thinking about one bloody slip-up, a mistake, because that is what it is. A mistake!_ – she growled under her breath as the sound of the rain washing against her bedroom soon had her in deep sleep. 


	3. Dangerous grounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post during Christmas, but eventually, I got sick and needed to take my time to get better. I promise from now on that I'll update this story every Sunday. 
> 
> I hope you like it!!

Severus slid the last assignment to the pile of parchments on his left side when his office door slammed open; having dealt with insufferable dunderheads all week, he was undoubtedly not in the mood to deal with another one. Without looking up, he snapped with a murderous tone in his voice,   
  
" _I do not_ wish to devote my precious evening to Gryffindor's know-it-all."  
  
The footsteps dimmed down, and silence once again flooded his lifeless office. They were already weeks into the new term and Severus once again found himself spending numerous of sleepless nights sauntering through the vacant hallways of Hogwarts at night-time.   
  
Still, after all this time, he found himself being haunted by the memories from the war... of how close he had been to his death. Naturally, his nightmares were not as clear as they once used to be. But they were still adverse enough to keep him up for the rest of the night.   
  
Tonight though, he had planned to drown his miserable mind in a bottle of Ogden's Fire whiskey and bury his hooked nose into a book. That, until a certain bushy-haired know-it-all had decided to bombard his office.   
  
"No? _Good._ I most certainly don't plan to extend my visit much longer." Hermione spat furiously, and when he looked up, he met her raging amber staring back at him. Her chest heaving breathlessly after having run from the opposite side of the castle   
  
Tilting his head slightly to the left, his lips twitched sardonically, and with his hands resting in front of him he asked curiously, although he knew the exact reason for her visit, "may I ask your reason for your unexpected visit at this hour?" his eyes glittered with amusement.  
  
She saw the sarcasm shine through his dimmed black eyes as rage once again knitted across her face. She felt her blood boil, making every nerve in her body twitch as they burst into flames. Her hands had clenched into fists on either side of her waist and her heart assaulted her ribcage. She wanted to scream, to shout and throw things at her professor, but something in his eyes stopped her.   
  
"Give me back my private quarters!" she howled; her voice shattered around them with an ear-splitting sound, yet he did not look at her anymore.   
  
Instead, he shuffled through a couple of parchments, offering a mocking arch of his eyebrow, "And pray tell, Miss Granger, would I do such thing?" _Good job_ , he rewarded himself silently when he decided to meet her murderous glance.   
_  
How dare he?_ – she heard herself lecture under her breath. By this time, she should have been burying herself under her duvet with her favourite book, but no. Not tonight. For the past weeks – in fact, ever since she began her apprenticeship under Snape, he had seemed to go out of his way and given his best efforts in insulting and humiliating her whenever he saw a chance to do so. If that hadn't been enough, he had Minerva terminate Hermione's private quarters by the Gryffindor tower.   
  
By the time she got there, the door to her chamber had been concealed into stone and all she was left with was rage.   
  
_Bloody rage._   
  
" _Give me back my quarters, Professor!_ " this time she sounded more desperate than angry, but when her fists hit the surface of his office desk, Snape leapt to his feet and before she knew it, she found herself pushed up against one of the stone walls in his office.   
  
Never in her life had she experienced so much rage rush through her at once, not even for Ron. She didn't dare to meet his eyes, but she felt the warmth of his breath brush against her lips when he spoke -  
  
"No need to be brusque, Miss Granger –" he declared coolly. The palm of his hand still planted firmly against the wall by the left side of her head. Eyeing her dangerously, "or need I remind you in who's office you're finding yourself in?" he continued.   
  
Leaning faintly against her, he could hear her heartbeat batter against her ribcage and her uneven ragged breaths escaping her slightly parted lips. After he spoke, the office once again fell deadly silent. Her heart gave an extra but hardening throb when she felt the lump in her throat grow bigger and wetness layered the edges of her eyes. Pressing through the humiliation, she tilted her head upwards, her eyes failing to meet his as his lips parted to speak.   
  
Using his full height to his advantage, he had towered her against the cold dungeon wall, his eyes glittered murderously, and his lips twitched dangerously; his cloak layering elegantly around him as he leaned into her, "Pray tell Miss Granger, has the brain behind the Golden Trio lost the ability to speak?" his derisive voice sent a shudder through her when she shook her head quietly, making her hair dance around her shoulders.   
  
Feeling the scent of her flowery perfume penetrate his nostrils, he finally allowed himself to take a step back from her as the living memories of her flashed through his head again; the exact scent he had bathed in when his body pressed against hers the night at the Inn. And for weeks now, Severus had managed to dismiss the memories whenever he saw her, and for a longer period, it seemed like he had successfully gotten rid of them.   
  
But that was not the case anymore... Just within seconds, his jaw had tensed, his body had gone rigid and reacted against his will as the memories flashed piece by piece through him. _You foolish old man_ – he cursed himself inwardly through gritted teeth, his black orbs still glittering dangerously on her. The hand he leaned against the wall was now resting against the side of his waist while the other brushed against the buttons of his coat, trying desperately to put his mind on other things.   
  
"Do not for a second think that I particularly enjoy having Gryffindor's golden brain lurking in my dungeons." He snapped in a clipped tone and knitted his eyebrows together, making the crease between them etch violently. He sighed loudly and took another step away from her,   
  
"Minerva had the nerve to hire you as my apprentice when I was not in need of one in the first place –" he stated firmly; his voice still cold and dangerous as the words left him. Brushing a few strands of his raven hair away from his face, his black orbs once again sought out the young witch in front of him; still not looking at him. "but, I can _assure you_ , Miss Granger, although she had the delight of going to such length, I am still the one who has the last say in this –" when he paused, Hermione gathered the Gryffindor strength she had left and bravely met his unreadable face, "- If I find you _anything but_ uncivil in my presence, I will see to end Minerva's gleeful smile in the hallway when she sees you go."  
  
Sinking back down in his chair, he eyed her cautiously and crossed his arms over his strong chest, his lips twitching lightly around his thin mouth, "Since _you_ of all people happen to be my Potions apprentice, it is only fair that you have your quarters in the dungeons." his lips broadened now into a threatening smirk and his eyes narrowed to slits.   
  
Burying his hands into a new stack of unfinished assignments, he cast a deadly glare at the pale bushy-haired witch, "If you ever think about acting this ignorant again, I _will_ see to your farewell." there was more in his voice than anger... displeasure? Perhaps... Resentment? Most bloody likely.   
  
Finally gaining back the control of her breath and body, she wiped away what seemed to be the last of the silvery thread from her eyes, she looked at him through her blurry eyes. "But sir?" she croaked, the sound in her voice was raw, almost at the breaking point.   
  
A low sneer came from the wizard behind the desk; his eyes deeply focused on the assignment in front of him. He didn't offer to look at her, knowing how his own body had betrayed him only minutes ago when it reacted to her scent; how it so willingly reminded him about her body, how it fit so perfectly against his; how her soft voice had cried his name and how her sharp but short nails dug into the back of his shoulders as he trusted himself into her; shagging her into incoherence.   
  
It was all it took - _her bloody scent_.   
  
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"   
  
Snapping his fingers boringly in mid-air, a sudden 'swoosh' came from the door when one of Hogwarts' House-elves appeared in the middle of the doorway. With its big soft eyes, he grasped the sight of the tearful Potions apprentice standing in the middle of the office.   
  
" _Show Miss Granger to her new private quarters,_ " Snape ordered with an unpleasantly crisp sound in his voice, scribbling his quill on the top of the parchment. In response, the House-elf nodded cheerfully at Hermione, gesturing his hand for her to follow him as Severus office once again dimmed into silence.   
  
  
_________________________  
  
Hermione sighed heavily and rolled over in the new four-poster bed. It had been a couple of hours since the House-elf had taken her to her new quarters. Opening her eyes slowly, she felt the crisp dungeon air border around her body. She had, of course, tried to cast warming charms but without any luck. They worked for a good half hour but that was it, really. Either, the dungeon air was cast to override charms like this, or, this was how the air was supposed to be down here.   
  
Allowing her mind to flow freely across her mind, she couldn't help but feel anything but defeated. Though Professor McGonagall had put her up to what seemed to be an impossible task, and because she had indulged in what happened to be unthinkable with her former professor, she decided early on to approach this with a positive mind, with a blank page.   
  
There was a small piece inside of her that hoped things could change, but in reality, she knew nothing would change when it came to Snape. She let her slightly blurry eyes scatter across her bedroom and quickly noticed something she hadn't paid much notice of; McGonagall had told her that Hogwarts would conjure new chambers and dormitories if needed, but this was as far from Hogwarts' standards of a private chamber.   
  
Looking around, she saw how much bigger her quarters was than the one by the Gryffindor tower. Besides the bigger bed and the silk sheets, a marble fireplace stood firmly in front of the bed, trailing the lines of its fire as it danced along with the faint breeze inside of the room.   
  
_This has to be some kind of joke_ , she thought silently; her eyes still wandering around the contours of her bedroom. Stroking the palm of her hand over the silk below her, a gentle twitch of her lips settled around her mouth. Not that she hated it, but rather, she couldn't understand.   
  
This was not of Hogwarts' standards, but rather of Slytherin's standards. All those years ago, she had heard students from the Slytherin House gloat about how much better and nicer looking their dormitories looked than the other Houses, and surely her private quarters held more prestige in its looks than the one by the Gryffindor tower.   
  
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by faint but stern knocks on her door; hauling herself from the much comfortable bed, she trudged through her chamber, her hands wiping away the last evidence of silvery threads on her cheeks and pulled the door open – meeting the concerned eyes of Neville, the new Herbology teacher.   
  
"You weren't at dinner, 'Mione..." he voiced firmly, his eyes still piercing through her as though he searched for the reasons of her absence.   
  
" _Well spotted_ , Longbottom," Hermione retorted sarcastically, the edge of her lip twitching towards him.   
  
Combing his fingers through his hair, he lowered his head; his eyes looking at the empty space between them, " _Don't take that tone with me, Granger,_ " he chuckled gently, "you of all people know how depressing the teacher's table is without anyone to speak to." he tried to sound more confident than he was.   
  
"All right, all right" Hermione murmured, her glittering eyes finding Neville's ones, "I can only assume you're here to force me to attend the supper?" she asked, gleaming at him. For a moment she felt the warmth burst through her; letting her for a second forget how bad her afternoon had been.   
  
Feeling her stomach was on the verge of starting a brawl, she silently nodded in agreement, stepped into the darkness of the dungeon corridor and locked her door by performing her own locking spell, circling her wand in mid-air as she spoke the words in a low voice.   
  
Out of everyone she knew, she was happy it was Neville who was there. In the end, he was the one who would sit by her side when no one else would. In a way... a weird way; he was the one who understood her, although she never revealed what had made her days seem like an endless hell.   
  
"Wait a minute!" she stopped dead in her tracks when they reached for the spiral staircase, her amber searching his bothered features. Arching an eyebrow violently, she brushed her hair from her face, "How did you know where I was?" she questioned quietly.  
  
Starting to climb the staircase, the silent air fell heavily between them. At first, it didn't seem he was comfortable enough to give her an honest answer. That, until he looked back at her, his eyes a little less convincing looking, "Snape..." he stated with a clipped tone.   
  
"Snape, really?" she hesitated at first but agreed silently as they kept on walking through the vacant corridors.   
  
"Or.. You know how it goes... He caught me by the door of the Potions lab, barked at me, then pointed at the other direction of the corridor as I heard your name in between his normal cursing." he laughed bitterly as thoughts reminded him of how Snape had scared him over the years, not that it had changed much. Snape had that effect on people.   
  
A slight pause fell between them before Hermione looked at her friend, her eyes searching quietly, "I am sorry you had to go through that," she muttered when they walked into the Great Hall, side by side.   
  
Daring to cast a glance up at the staff table, she noticed, to her surprise, that the chair Snape used to sit was empty. She felt the tension in her body alter as calmness rushed through her. For once she didn't need to worry about meeting his murderous glares and hearing his hateful sneers coming from the opposite side of the table as they sat down.   
  
Finding herself picking her food rather than eating it, Neville curtly looked at her with his fork entwined into his fingers, "What _were_ you doing during dinner?" he asked, chewing a mouthful of food before swallowing; his eyes never left the young apprentice as she swung her fork across her plate.   
  
_I was crouched into a corner of my new quarters, fighting against every part of my body not to cry. But failing immensely, I ended up crying enough for at least ten years_ \- she shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to meet his gaze, "I was writing," she replied dryly. And she had been, at least she'd tried to write a letter to her mother and father, who was still living in Australia under the Obliviate spell; not knowing they had a daughter, not knowing what she had gone through to keep them safe.   
  
She hadn't told anyone but Harry and Ron about what she had done to her parents before the war and she wasn't planning to ever tell anyone. For the past year, she had written to her parents, giving them the knowledge that she was nothing else but a family friend, and every time she would sit down to write a letter to them, the gut-wrenching pain swallowed her.   
  
There was no counter-curse to the Obliviate spell as far as Hermione knew, but she knew there had been witches and wizards who had researched new ways of trying to make a counter-curse of the spell but had failed halfway into the project.   
  
Looking around the Great Hall, Neville shrugged tentatively before looking at his former Head of House, "You know, Granger, I was surprised to hear you become Snape's apprentice." Neville cleared his throat and drank from his goblet, not paying much attention to the curious faces looking at the two of them.   
  
"I did not have much choice, you know," she countered, finding Minerva's stern eyes looking back at her.   
  
"No?" he chuckled sarcastically, "I reckon you could become a healer. I know someone who studied Potions and they became one, a bloody good one too." Neville murmured with the edge of his goblet halfway into his mouth,   
  
He crooked his head, sending her a suspicious glare, "Granger, you're not stupid. I reckon you could research Potions and make antidotes that don't exist." he waved his hand towards her, still stuffing food into his mouth, "I know Snape is pretty terrifying, but then again so can you be, and I think you can make one hell of a Healer if you so wish." Neville stopped abruptly when he found Hermione's amber glaring acidly back at him. If approached wrongly, her eyes could subdue anyone to their knees. Even the worst and darkest wizards.   
  
"I-I mean," he stuttered, clearing his plate, "if you don't want to become a Potions teacher, that is." her face changed quickly and her lips curled into a smile. He was right – _Neville was for once right_. She could use this to her advantage. Looking back at him, there was a certain gleam radiating through her eyes. Remembering the contract Minerva had given her, it was specified at the bottom that as a potions apprentice, she was allowed to do her own research and brew antidotes with the guidance of the professor of the subject.   
  
The rest of the supper passed by uneventfully. Snape was nowhere to see and nor did she see him in the dungeon when she hasted back to her quarters.   
  
Crawling into bed, she wrapped her hands on either side of the contract. Her eyes reading it over and over again as her smile faded quietly and her heart sank down her stomach,  
  
" _With proper guidance from the respected professor of the given subject, the apprentice is allowed to conduct his or her own research, potions brewing and making of antidotes. If skilled enough, the apprentice with the professor's approval may apply to the Ministry for doing his or her own experimentation for counterspells and curses where potions perform a bigger part of the research itself._ "   
  
Did she need the approval of Snape? _Oh god_. She felt her heart drop completely, leaving her soul to drown in the darkest part of the abyss.   
  
_You're Hermione Jean Granger!_ she confronted herself loudly enough for her voice to echo around her. "You can do it!" she told herself, putting the contract back on the nightstand and with a whip of her wand, she voiced firmly, "Nox."   
  
If she wasn't mistaken, the counter curse to the Obliviate spell would need a handful of Potions ingredients to work properly, but as of now, she needed to catch up on some well-needed sleep. Closing her eyes, it didn't take long until sleep met her halfway, pulling her deeper into the darkness of her mind.   
  
_________________________  
  
Feeling the tingling sensation of the Fire whiskey as it almost consumed him, Severus' black orbs pierced through the dancing and rattling fire in front of him; memories from earlier that afternoon going on repeat through him.   
  
He couldn't tell what it was, but something about her reminded him so crucially about his past; of all those times he was the one who had to trail after them and save them from their stupidity. Surely that Granger girl should've known better, but knowing Potter; anyone who had befriended him would eventually sink to his level of stupidity, even Granger.   
  
Shaking his head he felt the world spin hastily around him.   
  
Severus was the only true definition of bad communication skills, and so he knew. But it didn't change the way she had made him feel that night. He had only had so many sexual encounters over the years, most of them being of lower-ranks in the Death Eaters squad and none of them had felt as real as with the Granger girl. He shook his head brutally, the black curtain of his hair flapping around him. _Stop - just stop_ \- he lectured himself loudly.   
  
She wasn't a schoolgirl anymore; when he had looked into her eyes earlier that day, he had seen the eyes of a woman. He saw beyond what she wanted him to see, and that without using legilimency. He didn't see the wariness – the know-it-all she once was known to be. He saw a young woman who had been put through too much way to fast; her eyes conveying the life experience of an eighty-year-old.   
  
She had seen too many deaths, too many innocent lives drop to the ground as they moved no more. She had felt the guilt and the despair for the fallen ones, and the rage and distrust towards anyone else during the war. He chuckled with a low tone, his eyes heaving in circles.   
  
But she was also the reason why his own body had betrayed him only a few months earlier. How quickly her soft-spoken words and the touch of her hands against his sallow skin had allowed him to subdue to her grasp. That night he had ended up shagging her, devouring every inch and curve of her body. It was the night he ever had heard his name being spoken so softly... so carefully. Not even Lily managed to ever speak his name in such... affectionate way.   
  
He looked thoughtfully at the wall on his side when he felt the bulge in his pants grow into a semi-erection.   
  
"Not bloody likely!" he condemned himself and raised up from the chair, trudging into his bedroom. But before he fell asleep, a small voice inside of his head voiced calmly, with a hint of sarcasm,   
  
" _That Granger girl will be the death of you,_ " 

  
_____________________________


End file.
